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Good morning, good afternoon, or goodnight (depending on what time you’re reading this) and welcome to another episode of “This How I be feeling!”
On today’s episode I’ll be talking about the idea of a “safe space.”
Follow me…
Now what is a safe space? When I hear those words, I instantly think of the phrase “no judgment.” It’s a place or person who makes you feel comfortable enough to be exactly who you are, with no expectations.
Let’s use my home for example.
I feel safe here. When I come inside and close my door I can let my hair down. I am not sitting on the couch, in fear, knife in hand, waiting for danger to come.
No need to, because I feel safe.
And I have a ring camera.
Same with people.
Let’s use my therapist for example, I feel safe with her. I know I can talk to her about any and every thing and it’s going to stay between us. One, because her title is literally ‘therapist’ so she’s contractually bound to keep things confidential, but more importantly two, she’s shown me, with her actions, that she cares.
You know she reads my blog? Yeah.
I’ve never had a therapist care enough about my emotions, my feelings, my day-to-day, to read my blog. And not only does she read it, she brings it up during our sessions. I love that and I love her, and I often find myself telling her I’m so thankful God placed her in my life because again, she feels safe.
Speaking of the blog, this is my safe place. Literally on the homepage of my website it says: “A Safe Space, created for me, by me.”
And I said what I said.
I created my blog, at this point 4 years ago, for two reasons:
One, I created it for my future daughter. I had this thought that it would be great if I could write about all of my adulting experiences, save em, put em in a book and give it to her when she turns 18.
Now granted, I’m not sure if I’m ever going to have a daughter, let alone kids at all (The pain? The responsibility? Chileee). But the idea of writing down these experiences and putting them in a book is something I’d still do. Whether it’s to keep it for myself in physical form or to share it with the masses.
But more importantly, my second reason for starting the blog was to finally have a safe space.
I don’t know if you can tell, but I can talk… a lot. I actually won most talkative in 8th grade.
I find myself being able to spark a conversation with anyone, about anything. Which is great!
But safe conversations are reserved for safe spaces and for safe people. And what’s more safe than something I put my sweat and tears into?
Literally, I can remember making the blog and spending weeks trying to perfect it. I became so obsessed there were days I didn’t shower, meals were purposely skipped, and there were events I did not attend.
Why? Because I was dedicated to making a safe space for myself, and it worked. Because now I can get on here and say exactly how I feel with no judgment. My stories can be as long as I please, the graphics can be as eye-catching as I like, and I can post as much as I want.
Why? Cause this my shit. And it’s safe.
But just like there are safe spaces, there are unsafe spaces too. And we, as individuals, have the right and the power to determine what feels safe to us and what does not.
Places that don’t feel safe?
The Falcon Fuel gas station on 76th and Halsted. Yup, in Chicago, where I’m from.
I went to this gas station one time a couple of years ago and haven’t been back since. Why? Because it was literally unsafe.
Quick story…
It was a Sunday and I had went to my Aunt’s church earlier in the day. So I was dressed up in my cute, tight, bodycon dress and Dora the Explorer bob. I was on my way somewhere, and decided to stop at Falcon Fuel because it was right there and I was on E.
I pull up, pay outside, and it was literally one of the most uncomfortable two minutes of my life.
First of all, I get out the car and a guy instantly walks up. Not aggressively, but he is definitely fishing for conversation.
And again, I am a young lady, alone, on the Southside of Chicago – during the day (which don’t mean much because in Chicago violence can happen at any time).
I’m trying to get gas in an area I grew up in, because I’m on E and because I thought it was safe.
But it was not.
It went from one guy trying to start conversation, to two guys trying to start conversation, to and another guy driving by really slow blasting his music giving me the same look Snoop Dogg gave Jody in Baby Boy, but instead of a look of disgust it was a look of “I’m trying to fuck.” Meanwhile I am still standing here trying to get my 20 on pump 6 and I feel so… unsafe.
Needless to say, God got me out the jam safe and sound, and I never ever went back.
But let’s dissect this situation, shall we?
I came as myself. Like I mentioned, I had on a cute, tight, bodycon dress. It was black and hugged me in all the right spots. This was before COVID, before turning 30, before my grown woman weight, so I ain’t have no titties or booty like I do now.
So in my head, I could get away with cute tight dresses because I ain’t got much anyway.
My makeup was done, because I like to do my makeup.
My hair was laid, because I like to have my hair laid.
I went to that gas station as myself.
And the people around me came as themselves too: flirty, loud, no respect for boundaries or personal space.
And as you’re reading this you may be thinking, but girl, why did you go there anyway? It’s 76th and Halsted. And if you’re not from Chicago, you may be thinking I don’t know much about 76th and Halsted but it sounds like the typical unsafe gas station where women get harassed on the daily.
So yeah, Jalyssa, why were you there? Why didn’t you go somewhere else? Why didn’t you get gas from a different station?
All valid questions.
But here’s the reality…
I thought it was safe.
No it doesn’t look like the nicest gas station, and no it’s not your up-to-date BP or Shells you see in gentrified neighborhoods. But it was in my neighborhood. Well, at least down the street from it.
The neighborhood my family and I spent most of my life driving through.
We spent countless days at that McDonald’s down the street.
My grandma lived 5 minutes away.
I walked home from school.
I stopped at those convenience stores.
I went to those beauty supply stores for years. At a younger age too, I’m talking pre-teen until high school.
And I was safe.
But that’s the thing about safe spaces and safe people, just because they once were, doesn’t mean they always will be.
And there are some people that unfortunately, I no longer feel safe with.
But I find myself using the same excuses I did for the gas station, with them…
“But we’re family!”
“But we went to college together!”
“We used to party!”
Listen, I don’t give a damn if yall got the same blood, same background, or the hairstyle, you know when something or someone doesn’t feel safe.
And what’s crazy is, when I pulled up to the gas station and seen all those niggas, there was a moment where I was like, “I should probably go somewhere else.”
But I convinced myself that the familiarity of this place, of this neighborhood, was safe.
But again, just because something or someone was once safe, doesn’t mean it always will be.
And me stopping and having that gut feeling before going into the gas station? That right there? That was my subconscious telling me that this isn’t safe.
Let’s get to the nitty gritty, right? There are some people I don’t feel safe with anymore.
And just like that gas station, I can literally pinpoint when they became unsafe.
I can vividly remember the first time X person looked me up and down and rolled their eyes at me and my cute outfit. Yes, she used to poke fun at me for always being overdressed and wearing heels, but this time was different. This time there were no jokes, there was just cold energy that she had with me the entire night, and that infamous eye roll.
At that moment, I no longer felt safe.
This went from a “light-hearted” joke I’d hear often, to a feeling of wait, this bitch serious?
I can also vividly remember one of the first times I had a difference of opinion from X family member, and how angry they got with me. We went from laughing and talking in the living room, to a slight back and forth, to me getting slapped so hard that I fell back into the closet.
I can remember standing up, and the first thing that came out of my mouth was, “why are you hitting me?”
X family member had no response, and in that moment, I felt unsafe.
This, and other experiences with other people, and other experiences with some of those same people, became my reality. Knowing I no longer felt safe, but justifying that feeling because… we’re family, we’re friends, we used to party, we’ve known each other for so long.
But back then I was young, and emotionally unequipped to deal with the unsafe elephant in the room.
But thank God for growth, and for change, because now?
That Falcon Fuel on 76th street? Yes, a familiar part of my childhood for sure. But best believe I’ll never go there again. I’m wishing Hassan, Muhammaed, or whoever owns it now, the best, but I won’t be back.
The people who have made me feel unsafe for years, although I am familiar with them and still have love for them, I have to protect myself. And if that means loving them from a distance then I’ll do that.
Also, let’s not forget, I have tried to explain my “unsafetynness” before. And what’s happened? I’ve been ostracized, I’ve been gaslit, I’ve been turned on.
So at this point, I simply disengage. I’m not sending no four-page letter. I’m not trying to have a come to Jesus. My safety is my number one priority and I will not put myself in harm’s way any more. Especially for people who should not be harming me anyway. Especially for people who should be loving me anyway.
They don’t get that much from me anymore. And all that love and care, and adoration I had for them, I now give to those deserving.
Starting with myself.
Friend, person reading this, do yourself a favor and be real about who feels safe and who does not.
If you have to question someone’s safety, or if you find yourself making excuses for their behavior… friend, person reading this, they may not be safe.
And you are doing yourself a disservice, steady pulling up to that gas station knowing it’s not safe. Familiar or not, don’t put yourself in harm’s way in an effort to please other people.
You, and I deserve more than that.
They should no longer be allowed in your bubble, and their access should be denied.
Til next time, peace.